


Total Eclipse Of The Heart

by Newance



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And I am having fun with this, F/M, Fluff, Rock Band AU, Sharing a Bed, This fic is ongoing idk why ao3 says 1/1, i am here to have fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-07-29 00:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16252697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newance/pseuds/Newance
Summary: Varric Tethras is about to throw away everything for a rock band.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you know how in deadly premonition SWERY used the car driving scenes to talk about movie trivia nobody gave a shit about?? This fic is me doing that with 70’s-80’s bands and also low key shitting on my hometown thanks.

“I don’t want to go,” Varric groaned, head leaning back as he stared at his roommate. He was shirtless, laptop open on his faded sweatpants, fuzzy pink bunny slippers hanging on his feet. 

Isabela stood with her hands on her hips, frowning down at Varric on the couch. Her girlfriend had canceled their date, and she wasn’t about to go to see a shitty rock band alone. At least with Varric the two of them could get trashy drunk on overpriced shots and stop for nachos afterwards. Varric’s eyes were mildly bloodshot. He had been pulling all nighters to release his next terrible kindle romance novel. The budding career had started years ago as a joke, now it paid the bills and funded his more serious novel ideas. 

“Come ON, Varric. I’m taking you to a concert AND buying the booze. You’re really gonna turn this down for a chapter of a werewolf erotica you can bang out tomorrow morning?” She asked, and Varric grumbled and huffed. He slapped his laptop shut, hauled himself to his room, and came back less than ten minutes later, immaculately dressed. 

Deep maroon velvet blazer over a white deep v neck, gold necklace, and black pants. 

“Are you happy?” He asked, running a hand through his hair to pull half of it back. Isabela let out a shockingly gleeful, if not a little evil, laugh. He frowned at her, and she clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“You look great,” she promised. “And the chest hair! Oh Varric I didn’t know you were out to seduce everyone we see.” 

“Ha-ha Riviani.” 

The two scoffed at each other good naturedly, shoving playfully as they got their shoes and wallets and left the bar top apartment they shared downtown. 

Kirkwall was the kind of shit heap that had rent for three hundred dollars, but god at what cost to your mental sanity. There were like three Dairy Queen’s and only the one four miles away was any good. And it closed in September so the only ones left couldn’t make a blizzard from a midwestern polar storm. 

There was, at least, a concert hall and Movie theater. More often than not, indie bands on their first tours would pass through Kirkwall because they couldn’t book any other venue. Most of the time they dissolved the band after they finished their show. Sometimes in the middle of it. Kirkwall was that sort of town. 

On the way over, Varric offhandedly asked what band was playing. He was surprised to hear the name. 

“Some guys called ‘The Hawkes” or something. They’re getting kind of popular, they were on FER-1D4N a few weeks ago. This is their second tour,” she said, “Merrill really likes them. They aren’t mainstream but they’ve apparently got a great stage performance.” 

“I get it. Cute you remember all that stuff,” he chuckled, and Isabela rolled her eyes. 

When they got to the venue, Isabela flashed her phone screen and the clerk let them in after scanning the code. He greeted Isabela by name, and gave a stiff nod to Varric. 

The Hall was almost totally empty. They’d gotten there early, but still it felt abandoned. The two waded through the sea of nothingness to the barrier front and center. If they were going to see a shitty rock band might as well see them. The two made small talk, Isabela wrangled two free cosmos from the bartender with a wink. 

Varric could barely see over the top of the barrier, but that’s why they were so close to the stage. Coming in at a whopping four feet eight inches, Varric was grateful he’d been blessed with his charming good looks and thick skin. Isabela has never commented on his height. 

The two had met in the Hanged Man, the bar under their apartment, and had hit it off. When their leases ran up, they moved into the quaint two bedroom above their local spot. Rent was cheap because of the drunken fiascos that went on downstairs, and they got to know the bar owners well. 

“They usually don’t have the curtains closed,” Isabela mused, gesturing toward the thick red drapes covering the stage. Occasionally a thump or metal clang was heard behind it. Stage setup, obviously, but Varric couldn’t help why keep it a secret. He’d been to plenty of concerts, usually the bands wouldn’t wait for some dramatic curtain call. 

“Maybe their setup is, like, really fucking legit or something,” Varric said, “you said they had stage presence?” 

“Yeah, Merrill went to a show on their first tour. She said it was the best concert she’s ever been to,” Isabela chuckled. 

“Daisy? Really? How many concerts has she even been to.” 

“Oh, you’d be surprised. The bitch loves music,” Isabela laughed, “that’s why I love her so much.”

“You love her because she’s just as weird as you,” Varric joked back. Isabela sighed and they toasted their glasses together. 

There was no opener, but as the minutes ticked by the venue slowly began to fill. Varric watched as dozens and dozens of people filed in, and he shot Isabela a quick, worried look. 

“You said they weren’t mainstream,” he said. 

“Yeah, neither is Two Door Cinema Club really but their shows are almost always sold out,” Isabela said, but she also had a somewhat worried look. Two Door Cinema Club was _absolutely_ mainstream.

“At least we got good spots,” Varric said, watching the encroaching crowd grow ever larger. 

When the floor was packed, and the balcony creaking, Varric noticed Isabela standing slightly behind him, but still to the side. Normally he’d give her a look to tell her to stop. He wasn’t a child after all. This time, however, he felt a bit grateful to have his friend there. She wasn’t much taller than him, but she’d keep him from getting eviscerated if there was a sudden mosh pit. 

There was a hush when all the lights in the room suddenly went out. The piercing cry of a Red Tailed Hawk rang through the venue, and fog began to pour from underneath the curtain. Slowly, the curtain pulled up, revealing a keyboard, and drum set, both instruments and their players were silhouetted in the dark. Lighting from the floor illuminated the fog, fans whirred into life, and a giant shadow began to descend. 

Slow, panning lights finally settled on the enormous Hawk animatronic. It hung from the air by huge, movable wings. It’s eyes and beak were closed, and Varric barely had time to register the individual feathers before the white lights turned red, and the Hawk opened its eyes. 

Red spotlights poured from the eye sockets, and it’s beak fell open. Fog poured from inside, and it was backlit, revealing the shadow of… someone. The silhouette was boxy, and androgynous. 

That Hawk cry rang out again, and a spotlight fixed itself onto the open beak. 

There, the figure inside took a step forward, and then was sliding. She emerged out of the fog, sliding on the soles of both feet down the tongue of the hawk. She grabbed the edge of the beak just as momentum took her too far, causing her to expertly dangle by one arm, feet firmly planted on the metal sides of the beak. She raised her microphone back to her mouth, and Varric felt chills run down his spine when he realized that bird call wasn’t a recording, it was the girl hanging from the mouth of the beast. Her lips curled up as she let out the shrill screech, and then she swung back up into the mouth before Varric could get a solid look at her face. 

She vanished for only a second before reappearing with a black cherry bass around her neck and a headset microphone on her ear. White spotlights finally illuminated her bandmates, a girl with black hair on the keyboard, and a boy with black hair on the drums. The lights switched to blue. 

The girl in the hawk mouth brought her hand down on the strings, rocking the stage with one of the strongest opening bass hits Varric had ever heard. It vibrated his ribcage and made his teeth chatter, if he were a cartoon, his eyes would have rattled like dice in his head. 

Then they broke into a cover of Immigrant Song that shook the floors. 

The lead singer was the girl in the beak, which made sense. The whole band sounded like The Runaways and Blondie had a horrible, terribly talented baby with Joan Jett and Heart. The energy was high, even just from their first song, the crowd was shouting when the lead singer made a flying leap from inside the bird’s mouth and stuck the landing. 

After the cover, Varric and Isabela both whooped with the rest of the crowd. They watched in awe as the giant animatronic bird opened and closed its beak, ruffling its feathers at the praise. It seemed alive. Its eyelids even closed in response to the audience.

“Thank you! Thank you!” The lead singer said, a little breathy. She had a distinctly foreign accent, but Varric couldn’t place it. Similar, but different. Regional, maybe. Or maybe she was Canadian?

“Wow… what a fucking beautiful audience,” the singer said, but Varric couldn’t see past the blinding haze of the overhead spotlight. So much for seeing. 

“Thank you all for coming out tonight, Kirkwall!” A round of whoops interrupted her, “I’m Hawke with an E, on drums we have my brother Carver, and on keys we’ve got my beautiful sister Beth. We’re The Hawkes!” 

The band let the crowd stop shouting before they dove into a string of original songs that exuded 80’s punk rock and old metal. Varric caught glimpses of the lead singer closer up when the light colors changed, but they were fleeting. He felt like he’d go crazy if he didn’t see the front man, or woman rather. 

After about forty minutes of music with the occasional break to crack a joke, drink some water, and otherwise be absolutely incredible performers, the stage came to a halt. Hawke swapped to a regular electric guitar. 

“All right I’m gonna need some help from the audience with this one. It’s a special one. I’m going to close my eyes, and reach into the audience, the first person to grab my wrist gets to come up on stage.” Hawke said into her earpiece. Varric was turning to talk to Isabela when someone rammed into his back. He was knocked forward, half colliding with the barrier. One of his hands grasped the cool plastic and the other one was… warm? 

He felt something close around his own wrist, then he was being pulled through the air with ease. He landed neatly on the stage, dazed at what just happened, and then he saw her. 

Their hands still semi-clasped, he took in the sight of the woman in front of him. Her eyes were striking, and dark, just like her hair. Her face was sharp, but he was mostly transfixed on her makeup. She had the entire upper half of her face painted red, but it wasn’t shiny. It looked matte, almost powdery. Like it was part of her skin. It started in the middle of her nose, right under her eyes, and went straight back to her forehead. 

“Hi there,” she smiled, having taken a moment to gawk herself at the person she’d just chosen. In truth, Hawke had been glancing to the small man in the red blazer all show. 

“What a handsome participant,” Hawke continued. 

“Oh, get on with it, Hawke!” Carver called from the drums. She shot an annoyed look at him. 

“Just because you can’t get laid doesn’t mean you have to ruin my fun, dude,” she said, and the venue dissolved with sporadic giggles. The big hawk moved like it was laughing. 

“What’s your name?” She asked, pulling a mic off the stand and holding it near Varric. 

“Varric,” He said, for once glad he could remain calm in the most anxious of situations. 

“Give it up for Varric!” Hawke said, turning to the crowd and throwing Both their hands in the air. Hawke was 6 feet tall, and the height difference between them was almost comical. Varric heard Isabela croon an _I Love You!_ from offstage. 

“Okay, Varric. You’re going to help me with the most important song of the show, okay?” She asked. He agreed, and she grinned even wider, eyes sparkling. She leaned down, putting her hand between the headset mic and her mouth. 

“It’s a Blondie cover,” she informed him, secretly from the audience knowledge. 

Hawke backed up a few steps and he finally got a good look at her outfit. She was wearing a black crop top. It was sleeveless with almost pointed shoulders, hanging squarely. Low rise black, ripped jeans were layered over black fishnets that were settled high above her belly button. She was huge… and muscular. And hotter than hell. 

He took a quick glance at Carver. Also in a black muscle shirt, but not cropped. He wore black gym shorts, and a set of sweat bands up his wrists. Bethany was dressed in a long, floppy black tee shirt, blue leggings, and gold leg warmers. Her head had a matching gold hairband, and Varric could feel the 80’s aesthetics oozing off of them. All three shirts had the same white logo, which he assumed was the band logo from the sticker on Hawke’s guitar and the plate on the drum kit. 

Varric almost jumped when the lights turned neon pink and baby blue, and Carver hit a quick drum riff. Hawke let a long, deep note twang from her guitar, and Call Me by Blondie was happening. 

Hawke started singing, and she also started striding toward him with long, slow steps. Varric suddenly had a pretty good idea about what his participation was going to be. She was going to dance with him, or for him? He wasn’t sure. 

“Come up off your color chart,” Hawke sang, close enough to nearly touch torsos with Varric, “I know where you’re coming from…” 

The chorus erupted, Hawke sliding to Varric’s left, and circling him slowly, her thigh brushing along his back at least twice. She was back in front of him, having slid down on one leg, knee up, so she was looking up at Varric from an incredibly close distance. 

“Cover me in kisses baby,” she sang softly, but it was still deafening, “cover me with love-“ 

Varric had to keep himself from flushing red, staring down into Hawke’s half-lidded eyes as she sang up to him. He’d never been one to really get flustered, but there was something about this situation was so different. 

Hawke whispered the languages of love to him, fawned over him, carefully stroked his cheek and touched his shoulders. She never took it too far, ending in the same one knee up position they’d been in before. 

She was breathing hard, and Varric reached out to brush some stray pieces of hair from her eyes. She was mildly surprised by the touch, laughing a bit before going off balance and tipping back onto her butt. 

“That was great,” she said, again holding her hand over the mic. She stood up after Varric offered his hand, popping to her feet like a corn kernel, and she snapped her fingers like she just had a brilliant idea. She turned back to Bethany after saying a ‘wait here’ into the mic. She bounced over to Bethany, and leaned over the keyboard. Bethany handed her a copy of the set list, and a pen. 

“Here’s an autograph for your troubles,” Hawke chuckled as she walked back over, scribbling with the pen. She folded it, and tucked it into his blazer pocket, and she helped him back off stage the way he came. 

The rest of the show was a whirlwind, Isabela was talking his ear off but he could only stare up at the stage. The giant bird moved with the show, and the upbeat music matched his heartbeat. 

An end came to the show after two twenty minute encores performed entirely from the bird’s mouth. The beak closed and Hawke was transported off the stage with one last bird call. 

Varric was out of it, wandering out of the concert hall blindly. He heard Isabela calling after him, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. 

“Hey! Varric!” Isabela said, grabbing his arm. “That was sick! You’re so lucky. If Hawke had done that to me I don’t know what I would have done.” 

“I… I know,” Varric said. “Oh, fuck. She gave me her autograph!” 

Varric reached into his pocket, pulling out the set list, and he unfolded it under a street lamp and the neon glow of a twenty four hour liquor mart. The buzzing marquee of the concert hall was advertising the Saturday and Sunday shows for the Hawkes. 

“Oh… shit….” Varric breathed. 

Right under the Call Me title was Hawke’s name, a little doodle of her winking… and her phone number. 

“What, did she say you’re ugl-oh fuck,” Isabela let out an equally disbelieving breath when she spotted the numbers. 

“You gotta text her at least,” Isabela said after they stared at it in silence for minutes. 

“You think I don’t know that!” Varric snapped, “what the hell AND fuck, Isabela.” 

“What?” She asked, confused at his sudden outburst. 

“She gave me her… phone number? She danced on me? They had a giant fucking bird on stage? I didn’t even want to go to this dumb show now I’m almost pissed you meant to take Merrill!” He said, and Isabela laughed again. 

The two walked home in the nearly abandoned streets, stopping for tacos, and they fell into their respective beds once safely back above the bar. 

Varric woke up with a dry mouth and half a headache. He sat in bed, clicking away at the keyboard until his eyes were too sore to look at the screen. He popped two extra strength generic Advil, and downed it with a delicious glass of lukewarm, week old, tap water with dust. 

He checked his phone, the smaller, orange-filtered screen was easier, and he pressed his large thumbs into the safari search window, typing up the local venue to see if he could snag the website for The Hawkes. He’d pirate the cd usually, but, fuck it. Hawke herself had given him one hell of a concert experience the night before. They deserved the sale more than ever. Shit, if they had a crappy vinyl he’d have it running nonstop. 

To his chagrin, he found that the band was still playing a second show that night, closing out the main venue season before winter came and made concerts nearly nonexistent. He bought a ticket impulsively, then sat looking at the confirmation screen. 

“What the fuck?” He mumbled to himself. He got up. Two in the afternoon sun greeted him in their living room. There was a note from Isabela, marked with a smiley face. 

_“Went to Merrill’s be back tomorrow morning!!”_

“Convenient,” He said, reaching into the fridge and grabbing the grossly expensive cold brew he bought. He needed it, honestly. The Mexican food from last night had been washed down with countless beers. Varric didn’t get hangovers easily, he was a seasoned drinker, but mixing it with a loud concert and lack of sleep? It was its own cocktail of unfortunate feelings. 

Luckily, it was little more than a headache and light sensitivity, quickly brought down by closing the blinds and all the caffeine now raging through his bloodstream. He was able to get most of his work from last night finished, and the deadline he’d set himself was still on-target. 

The rest of the chapter practically wrote itself, Varric in a daze of caffeine and Advil. He closed his laptop before he could get lost in his editing, and got himself into the shower. 

His wardrobe was up to fashion standards, but small, and he layered the same blazer over a black V neck. Essentially the same outfit as the day prior, but with a darker shirt. He spent most of his days in his home, so the bulk of his clothes were pajamas. 

He brushed his teeth, and nearly choked on a mouthful of listerine when his phone beeped in the middle of a gargle. It was Isabela, telling him she might be back in the early morning hours due to a work shift complication. He text back his confirmation, and said he was going out. 

The three text dots appeared, then vanished, then appeared, then vanished. Varric sent a picture of CHUD to prompt a quicker response. 

_[Nice selfie.]_

Varric scoffed loudly, amused at it. 

**(Fuck you.)** He said back. **(What were you gonna say)**

_[B safe nd have fun, fool ;)]_

**(U too.)**

Varric called himself a Lyft to the venue. Early again, and hoped name-dropping Isabela would let him in before the skulkers that had lined up at noon for front row spots. 

When he got there, two of the security guards whispered to each other, then one called his name. 

“Hey, Varric, right?” He asked, and he told him yes as he approached. 

“Got a ticket for tonight? Isabela isn’t here,” he commented. 

“You friends with her?” He asked. 

“Nah, Merrill. I know about you through, like. Osmosis. Saw you on stage yesterday too, the jacket is killer, dude.” The guy laughed, and Varric rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Can I go in, or do I have to get in line?” 

“You can go in. I just need your phone number and the code for ticket verification,” he said. Varric listed off his number and had the code scanned, then he was let inside. He had a water bottle of vodka tucked in his jacket, and he wasn’t checked by the overly-familiar guard before going in. 

Varric hated clear liquor on its own, but drinking was drinking, and he wasn’t ready to drop twenty bucks on a single shot jack and coke. He kept it out of view, and leaned up against the barrier. The same familiar clanging came from behind the curtain, and he heard muttering behind the cloth. The voices weren’t identifiable, but both masculine. 

Again, the venue became filled and cramped, but it was a little looser than the night before. Most had balcony seats, and the concert goers around him were polite enough in space. The girl near him offered him a few hits off her blunt. Mango flavored. He, in turn, offered her vodka, which she only accepted after watching him drink it. 

“Sorry,” she chuckled, “I’m not into strange dudes giving me booze, you know?” 

“Trust me,” he said, “I know.” 

The two made idle chit chat, but it ended as soon as the lights dimmed. This time, Varric wasn’t shocked by the big Hawk hanging above the stage, but Hawke appearing in its mouth still took his breath away. 

Tonight’s opener was Bad Reputation. 

They didn’t repeat songs, they seemed to have a million covers and original songs to pick through, and the first act was done with Hawke entirely in the mouth of the animatronic. 

When she finally jumped down and approached the microphone, she made eye contact with Varric and a huge smile crossed her face. 

“ _Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii._ ” She said melodiously, addressing the whole crowd but still looking at Varric. He felt his cheeks getting warm. 

“Good to see you all tonight!” She continued, finally snapping to the attention of everybody. She introduced herself, and her band, and made a few new jokes. She and Carver had some banter when he dropped his drumstick, but things felt brand new this show. 

Hawke stayed close to the front of the stage, and Varric still felt transfixed by her as she bounced, and rolled, and twisted in the strobe and spotlights. She had that big red makeup again, this time with a black star over one of her eyes. Her hair was shaggier, slick with gel and spiked. She was layered with silver studs. Her hands were heavy with rings, it was a miracle she could play her Bass as masterfully as she was. Varric noticed then. She didn’t use a pick. 

The show closed, and people filed out. There was no special helper song, no chance to see her up close again. Varric lingered for a few extra minutes, stupidly curious if Hawke would come back out, or if he’d been too optimistic. Once the stage was quiet for too long, he started making his way to the exit. 

“Turn around, Bright Eyes!” He heard. He froze, then whipped around on the spot. The stage was still empty, and the curtain closed. 

“Thanks for coming out again, Varric.” The ghost voice of Hawke echoed through the concert hall. “Catch you later.” 

“Thanks for the show, Hawke,” he called loudly, “see you next time.” 

Varric walked home, feeling refreshed as his ears stopped ringing. He got some food from the bartender, a college kid named Corff that worked graveyard and closing. Nobody else wanted to. 

“Here, on me,” Corff said, sliding him a double whiskey shot alongside the greaseball burger. 

“Do you always steal booze?” Varric sneered, and Corff rolled his eyes. 

“She doesn’t care if I have two drinks after closing. Plus, she loves you,” he said, talking about the owner of The Hanged Man. 

“I’m ninety percent of her business,” Varric said, shoveling fries into his mouth. He didn’t smoke weed often, it always gave him the munchies, and what he’d had at the concert was strong. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I’ve gotta close in like ten minutes, so get upstairs before I lock you in here,” Corff said. Varric slid him a twenty and the empty food basket, then went upstairs and went to bed. 

In the morning, Varric sat with a cup of coffee and his phone open to the messages app, staring dead-eyed at the screen. He had the number logged already, just the name ‘Hawke’ and nothing else. 

He didn’t know what to say. 

“Hey, thanks for grinding on me the other night? I really appreciate the way you wore fishnets with the crop top? You’re hot?” 

All jokes. 

His fingers hovered over the keyboard when his phone made a tiny noise. 

**_(Hey)_ **


	2. Chapter 2

It was an incoming message. He hadn’t sent it. But it said it came from Hawke’s phone? How the hell did she get his number before he text her? 

**(Hey. )**

Really smooth, Varric. 

Those typing bubbles popped up, and Varric almost started sweating. 

_**(Sorry if this is out of left field. Also the number was pretty fuckin bold and all. I think you’re really cute and I wanted to ask if you wanted to hitch a ride with us for the next few shows. )** _

Holy shit. 

Varric looked up, and around the empty apartment living room, like he was searching for something. His eyes focused on his laptop, and then his closed bedroom door. 

He turned back to his phone, and typed a message before getting up and heading toward his bedroom. His phone, open on the table. He knew the risks. He knew it was stupid. 

**(Sure.)**

Isabela was awoken by a crash, and string of curses. She rushed out to the living room, finding Varric bent over two stuffed duffle bags, and they froze at each other’s sight. 

“What the hell is this?” She asked, and he stood straight up. He adjusted his laptop bag over his chest, and let out a big sigh. 

“I've left rent for three months.” He said, and she interrupted him before he could finish. 

“Why? Are you breaking up with me? We were supposed to be roomies for life...”

“No! Hell no! I love you! I… look, Isabela. You’re not going to believe me if I tell you.” 

“Try me, bitch.” 

“That Hawke girl asked me to go on tour with them. She thinks I’m cute,” he said, and Isabela studied his face, squinting before letting out a scoff. Varric handed his phone over to the message, and Isabela grunted. 

“Asshole, you’re not even lying! God I’m so jealous,” she hissed. “Well I… are you sure, Varric? What if it’s a cult? What if they kill you?” 

“I packed Bianca,” he said sagely, and Isabela nodded. 

“Be… be safe, Varric. Not to sound too much like your mom but make good choices,” she said, and he nodded at her. 

“God, am I really doing this?” He asked, and Isabela shrugged. 

“It’s now or never. Once in a lifetime, all that other shit,” she said, “go get laid and tour with a band or whatever. Text me, though.” 

Varric nodded, gathering his bags and turning back one last time to take in the view of his apartment. 

Varric Tethras was about to throw it all away for a band he met less than a day ago. 

And damn… it felt _good_. 

Varric has been sent the address of an IHOP a ten minute walk down the street. So of course he called a Lyft and sat in the back wringing his hands. Part of him knew the car ride was strategic. It was four minutes instead of ten, which was six less to decide to turn around and run home. 

He was dropped unceremoniously at the front door. Varric left his feedback and tip, and he noticed the tour bus, and it’s accompanying trailer that had the words **THE HAWKES** and **THE BIRDCAGE** written on them. He pushed through the heavy glass door to the IHOP, and saw only three or four tables filled. Two were old couples, two nurses still in their scrubs occupied another one. Some poor college kid was surrounded by coffee cups and a thesis the size of her head. 

“I’m here to meet some friends, young, black hair. Three of them?” He told the hostess, who lit up with a smile and offered to take him to them. 

The Hawkes were sitting at one of the back booths, rounded, to fit lots of people. Bethany and Carver sat to the left of an older man, and Hawke sat on the far right. 

Hawke perked up instantly when she saw Varric, and she nearly flew out of the booth to say hello. Varric was taken aback by her greeting, but he returned the sudden hug with a laugh. 

“I didn’t think you’d really come!” She said, eyes twinkling again. 

“Neither did we,” Carver said, and Bethany jabbed him in the ribs. 

“Ow! What was that for!” 

“You’re being a bitch,” Bethany said, and the older man cleared his throat. 

“Oh, yeah,” Hawke said, completely unfazed by the squabble happening, “come meet my family for real this time.” 

The two sat in the booth, Varric on the very outside now. 

“That’s Bethany, my younger sister, and Carver. They’re twins. Bethany is cooler than Carver, but Carver has his advantages. Plus I’ve never seen anyone tackle our drums better,” Hawke said, pointing to her younger siblings. 

“That’s because I’m the only drummer you’ve ever had,” Carver said. 

“Anyway,” Hawke breezed, “this is my dad, Malcolm. He used to be a magician and performance artist. He liked making animatronics and stuff. He controls Mabari. Oh, Mabari is the Hawk. We treat him like family, even if Dad is sitting inside him. He also drives the bus.” 

“This is nuts,” Varric said, and Hawke agreed. 

“Lastly, I’m Marian, but everyone has always just called me Hawke. It’s our last name, actually,” she smiled, “I’m glad you said you’d tag along. Our tour isn’t that long, once we’re done in this state we can swing you back up here and drop you off.” 

“I see,” Varric said, “so how long are we talking?” 

“Oh, we have, what, six shows in the state?” Hawke asked, and Malcolm nodded from behind his coffee cup. 

“So, roughly six to eight weeks,” she said. 

“Oh, hey. I never got the chance to say last night, but you guys fucking rock,” Varric said, “I can’t believe I’ve never heard of you until this weekend.” 

“Not a long time fan? I don’t blame you. We started as an 80’s cover band in our hometown. Lots of old white people like to throw themed parties, nostalgia for the 80’s. We learned to play, got some gigs, then started our original stuff,” Hawke explained. The whole table had wordlessly picked up their menus and begun scanning them. 

“What’s Good here?” Hawke asked, and Varric snorted. 

“It’s IHOP.” He said, “everything is edible but not much is good.” 

Varric refused to believe Hawke had never eaten at an IHOP. 

When the waitress came around, everyone ordered in a row. Bethany got the banana crepes, Carver got chicken and waffles, Malcolm ordered the cupcake pancakes, and then came Hawke. 

“I’m getting the strawberry stuffed French toast,” Hawke said, and Varric nodded. 

“Same here,” He said, passing the menu stack to the waitress. 

“Those are good,” Varric whispered to Hawke. 

Breakfast happened as if it were… normal. Varric didn’t even think about the fact he was ditching everything for a family band of strangers. Hawke made conversation easy. It’s like he’d known her for years. Malcolm paid the full tab, and Hawke reached out to grab one of Varric’s duffles when he glanced her way. 

“Oh, sorry,” she said, “they look heavy.” 

Varric realized she was just trying to be polite, and handed her one of the bags, shooting her a small smile. The five left the restaurant. It was still early. And mist clung to the air. Hawke patted the side of **THE BIRDCAGE** and then waited for her siblings to enter the tour bus. 

“We’ll be in in a sec, okay Dad? I want to smoke.” 

Hawke pulled a nearly fresh pack of cigarettes, Newport 100’s and offered one to Varric. He took it, and she lit his then her own with a gold zippo. 

“It’s not, like, Beyoncé fancy but I don’t even think she uses a tour bus,” Hawke said to Varric leaning up against the side of the bus. She patted it with her hand. 

“Also, I don’t smoke often. Usually just a day or two after each show,” she said, “don’t know if you care or not.” 

“We all have our vices,” Varric said. He honestly didn’t give a shit. 

“Do you mind me asking what you do that let you really just drop it all for this?” Hawke asked. 

“Oh, I’m a writer,” Varric said, “if you need me to do some shitty publicist work, I might be able to earn my keep.” 

The two chuckled, feeling some of the nervous tension between them vanish. Menthol smoke wafted around them, mingling with the mist and floating away on the breeze. 

“You don’t have to come,” she said, blowing smoke out of her nose, “I know it’s scary.” 

“I’m not scared,” Varric said, “I don’t want to stay in this town forever. Maybe this is a vacation for me. Who knows. Can’t turn down touring with a band, though.” 

“Bethany likes you,” Hawke said, rocking one combat boot clad foot over the over, half bent at the waist with her left hand over her stomach. “not _like_ like, but she said she got a good vibe from you on stage. I trust her instincts. Seeing you that second time made me really happy.” 

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he said, taking another long look at Hawke. She was dressed in a black, pink and blue windbreaker that was much too big, an oversized airbrushed tee shirt from a California stand that was also much too big, and some workout leggings with her boots. She had a huge red scar across her nose, or maybe a birthmark? Without the makeup on, he almost didn’t recognize her. The bold red had been so bright, like a flame. The same red as the mark he only just got a glimpse of. Now Hawke looked normal. Human. Baggy clothes, sleepy eyes and unkempt hair. Smoking a cigarette in an IHOP parking lot. Doesn’t get more human than that. 

“You really thought I was cute?” Varric asked after another pregnant pause. Hawke choked a bit, coughing out a mouthful of smoke, and she turned her head away from him. 

“Yeah, dude. You’re pretty hot,” she muttered, “that jacket looked really good on you.” 

“Thanks,” Varric said, “I won’t say I was unhappy with the sight of you, either.” 

“...Nice.” 

The two snuffed out their cigarettes, and climbed into the warm yellow light of the tour bus. Hawke motioned for him to follow her up the short flight of stairs to the smaller top level. 

It was nice, but again, not extravagant. 

“Hey Beth, you’re cool bunking with me for the rest of this leg, right?” Hawke called, and Bethany stuck her head out of her small bedroom. 

“What? I thought we had enough space!” 

“Four bedrooms, right? Five people,” Carver reminded her, and she rolled her eyes. 

“Just double up with him, that’s why you brought him, right?” Carver asked Hawke, and she flushed red. 

“Shut the hell up, Carver,” she snapped, “stop being such a little shithead all the time.” 

“ _Language,_ ” Malcolm drawled, appearing from the bottom floor. 

“Varric, you’re welcome to my room or any of the sofas in the bus. You’re also welcome to share Marian’s room if you so desire,” he said kindly, “ah, let’s stop the old man act. Welcome aboard kid!” 

Malcolm slapped Varric on the back in greeting, and Varric chuckled nervously. 

“I don’t mind bunking with Hawke,” he said, “I’m like a dog, you can throw a pillow on the floor and I’ll call it a bed.” 

That was a lie. Varric very much loved his California king sized bed that took up the majority of his apartment bedroom. Hawke waved for him to follow her again, and she shouldered his bags with her to the far end of the bus. She opened the door to reveal a decently sized bedroom. There were some pictures and posters on the wall, the queen sized bed had a puffy comforter, and there was a collection of medieval style toys on a shelf above her bed. 

“I won’t make you sleep on the floor,” she promised, closing the door. 

“Dad, Beth, and Carver all sleep at the far end. I get the big room because I’m the star, or whatever,” she sighed, “it’s mostly because my mom doesn’t tour with us much anymore, and I’m taller than my dad, so he gave me this room then.” 

“I see,” Varric said, “it’s nice. I like it.”

Hawke smiled and slid open a folding slat door to reveal… nothing. It was an empty closet. 

“This is for your stuff. We have WiFi, the password is Mabari, capital M. I’m sure we can stop for an air mattress if you want to sleep like… not in the same bed.” 

“Hawke…” Varric said, “forgive me if this is crude but I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t okay with the idea of us fucking.” 

Hawke’s face went red before she burst out laughing. 

“Okay, thank god,” she said, rubbing her eye and grabbing her stomach. “Honestly I was so afraid you were like totally creeped out from the first show. I try to keep things pretty PG-13, but sometimes it makes people uncomfortable.” 

“You could have done a lot worse to me that night before I would have complained,” Varric shrugged. 

“Can’t be worse than tinder,” Hawke said with a laugh. She sat down on the bed, and Varric came and sat down next to her. 

“Tinder doesn’t usually have tour buses or an extremely up close and personal first conversation. You know me grabbing your arm was a total accident?” Varric said, “some bozo rammed into me and I tripped. You just happened to be right there.” 

“Oh, well I was kind of reaching for you anyway,” Hawke admitted, shrugging a bit. “I’m glad it was you, though.” 

“I’m really flattered you brought me up,” he said, “like, I kinda bought that second ticket on a whim? I felt like I had to see you guys again just to convince myself it was real.” 

“We’re as real as the Jonas Brothers,” She said, and they stared at each other blankly. 

“That was a bad example,” she muttered. 

“So, like, I don’t mean to pry… but your whole family seems really… chill with the idea of a rando guy coming with you guys?” Varric asked. “Do you do this?” 

“Sometimes,” Hawke shrugged. “We has groupies in our main tour route, and our hometown. We’d occasionally take them on a little road trip and get to know them better.” 

“So this isn’t a new thing?” He was stumped. It seemed crazy. 

Hawke shrugged, leaning back on her arm a bit to grab a little book off the shelf above her bed. 

“Check it,” She said, flipping the book open. Inside was **PRECIOUS MEMORIES** scribbled in red marker. Every page after that was full of Polaroid pictures of Hawke with different people at different times. They all were labeled with names and dates. Varric’s eyes went big when he saw a familiar set of eyes staring back at him. 

“Oh fuck, that’s _Merrill_?” He breathed, reaching out and stopping Hawke’s hand from turning the page. 

“You know Merrill?” He asked. 

“Yeah!” Hawke smiled, “she was really cool. She hung out with us for a week, but nothing weird happened. She has a girlfriend and-“ 

“Her girlfriend is my roommate,” Varric interrupted. “I’ve known Merrill for 7 years.” 

“Oh shit!” Hawke said, face growing excited. “Fuck, dude! That’s sick! She was so cool, how has she been? She doesn’t live in Kirkwall does she?” 

“No, no, out of town a ways. Rural country stuff. Isabela takes the train out like 10 stations to get there, it takes like four hours!” Varric laughed. “Holy shit, small fuckin world, huh?” 

“For real,” Hawke scoffed, flopping back into the puffy duvet, “but does knowing Merrill went along and turned out fine ease your mind a little?” 

“Actually. Yeah, it does. I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but I was like kinda freaked out when your whole family just went along with it. I was like…. _oh fuck is this some weird murder cult family or have I been watching too much tv._ ” He chuckled, Hawke burst out laughing, shaking the bed with it. 

“The closest thing to a cult my family has ever been involved with is the movie industry,” she said, “and even then, my dad just built giant robots and shit until he got so sick of the culture.” 

“California?” Varric asked. 

“Yeah, we moved to Oregon after that.” 

“That’s it,” he snapped his fingers, still giggling, “I thought you were Canadian.” 

“Oh, I know I have an accent, but it’s like a weird mix of California stoner and B.C. farmer.” Hawke said, pulling a pack of Bubble Tape from inside her jacket. 

“Is that Bubble Tape?” Varric asked, watching her unroll the tape into her mouth and clamp the circular _**BUBBLE TAPE**_ packaging closed. He hasn’t seen anybody eating bubble tape in like a century. 

“Yeah, duh,” she said, a large wad of gum being pushed into her cheek. “Keep that thang on me.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Varric muttered, but he was still smiling. She offered him the tape, and he shook his head. 

“I’m more of a Big League Chew kinda guy,” he said. 

Hawke’s eyebrows raised and she tucked her other hand inside her other pocket. She removed two silver and white packages, already torn open. 

“Grape or regular?” She asked, and Varric stared at her dumbfounded before they both snorted and started laughing again. 

“Grape,” Varric said, accepting the gum Hawke was handing him. “You are full of surprises.” 

“No I just like gum,” she scoffed. “I like candy.” 

“Candy, huh?” Varric took a pinch of the grape gum, and was overwhelmed with the nostalgia of the flavor. 

“Mostly just food, though,” Hawke said, blowing a bubble and popping it with her teeth. “But yeah I’ve got a sweet tooth.” 

“Favorite Candy?”

“Red Starburst and red Skittles,” Hawke said, “how about you?” 

“Coffee Crisp,” Varric said, “or strawberry Mentos.” 

“Mentos? Fucking _Mentos_?” 

“They’re cheap and good!” Varric said, but the look on Hawke’s face was friendly, teasing at its harshest. 

“Mentos! I haven’t had mentos in like seven years. When we stop for gas we’ll buy a bunch,” she promised. 

As soon as she said that, the bus kicked into gear, engine rumbling as they eased off from a standstill. It was heavy, but smooth. 

Hawke blew another bubble, popping it loudly. 

“Too late to hope off now,” she said absently, “hope you’re up for the ride.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God thank you for enjoying this hot garbage. Im literally just new boot goofin here so I hope you stick around for it.


End file.
